


The Foreigner's God

by Crowley_Winchester



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Archaeology, Aztec Empire, Crimes & Criminals, Dehydration, M/M, References to Aztec Religion & Lore, Story within a Story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:29:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24219676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crowley_Winchester/pseuds/Crowley_Winchester
Summary: Archaeologist Ben Solo (known by his business name Kylo Ren) has been working illegally for a private collector for years. His latest assignment has sent him alone into South America, intent on finding remains from the lost tribe The First Order. However, some things were lost for a reason, and what he uncovers is far more dangerous than a crumbling temple.
Relationships: Armitage Hux & Kylo Ren, Armitage Hux/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	1. Godless and Free

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the repost, but it got brought to my attention that my original work was grossly historically inaccurate, as well as misportraying life as an archaeologist. I tried to edit it, and I will continue to be as historically accurate as possible given this being a fanfiction, but if anyone notices anything wildly inaccurate, please don't hesitate to let me know!

Centuries ago, there must have been something here. Ancient texts whispered of a pair of temples that were considered heretical by even the Aztec’s standards, but the followers fought with such a fierceness that they were left alone. Most archaeologists assumed that they had been destroyed during the Spanish colonization period. Most. But there were some that were convinced they still stood, having stayed hidden deep in the jungles. It was hard to say for sure. Some archaeologists even thought these people were just a legend; after all, the mentions of them were few and far between. Either way, if someone managed to find either of these temples, they would be hailed as a hero. It would be the breakthrough of a lifetime. 

Which is just what he needed. All his life, he had dreamed of becoming an archaeologist. Han had told his son that he watched too many Indiana Jones’ movies growing up, that real archaeology wasn’t nearly as exciting as he thought. But since when did Ben ever listen to his father? Both Han and Leia waited patiently for their son to grow out of his phase, but as he got older and his passion for archaeology remained, they began to grow concerned. They told him that it wasn’t a real career, that the job market was practically non-existent, that he needed to find something practical if he expected to do anything with his life. They warned him all throughout highschool that if he attempted to go to college majoring in anything to do with archaeology, or anthropology for that matter, they wouldn’t pay a dime. The day Ben moved out for school was the last time he had spoken to either of his parents. 

School was long and painfully boring. Ben couldn’t have given a damn about sociolinguistics or ethics. He was itching to go out into the field and discover something. Somehow, he managed to stay awake in enough classes to get his bachelor’s degree in anthropology. There was no way in hell he was going to sit through any more classes, so any sort of master’s or doctoractes were off the table. Whatever. It shouldn’t be that hard to find a job, right? 

Wrong. There wasn’t a single person that would hire him. No museums nor agencies would touch him with a ten foot pole. Crippling debt, no field experience, and only a bachelor’s? He was about as unappealing as it could get. However, somehow, Ben got lucky. A friend of a friend knew a guy who was cousins with a guy who worked for a private collector (or something like that). And apparently, this private collector was looking to expand his collection. 

Ben wasn’t an idiot. The entire thing reeked of illegality, up to and including when he was finally put in contact with this collector. Never saw him or heard his voice; he’d only get text messages from a ‘Snoke.’ That was just fine. The money always came in on time, and in all reality, that’s all Ben could ask for. He was finally doing his dream job! Travelling the world, usually with another older archaeologist who would watch him, rediscovering things that had been lost to the ages. Sure, once whatever they had found was shipped to Europe, Ben never saw it again, and he doubted he ever would, but it was fine. There was always another job waiting.

At some point, Ben had stopped referring to himself by his birth name. Everyone seemed to have some sort of alias; the two archaeologists he was paired up with the most went by Thrawn and Dooku. Ben, however, had never been the most creative individual, especially when it came to naming things. It was incredibly easy to change the first letter of his first name and add another name in front of it. Thus, Kylo Ren was born. 

This trip, however, was special. For one, it was his first assignment that he had been given without some sort of supervisor. Evidently, his continued work under Snoke had proven his loyalty, or something. But far more important was the location. Almost as a footnote in ancient texts was a tribe only referred to as the First Order. Theories of where they could have been located ranged all across Central and South America, but the area that Kylo was being sent to was where most scholars seemed to agree was the most likely. However, none of them had yet to find anything even hinting that the First Order ever existed. 

Kylo wasn’t even sure if Snoke truly expected him to find anything. The task seemed laughably impossible, especially for his first trip alone. Perhaps it was to test to see what he would do if he couldn’t find anything. He knew what he had to do. He could not return from South America empty handed. If that meant turning his attention from the jungles to the locals and seeing what they might have, that’s what was expected of him. The question, however, was if he would have the strength to do it. Kylo hadn’t been put in that position yet, and if he trusted in himself, he wouldn’t have to. The temples had to be here. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself as he trekked through the jungle, the machete doing little to cut through the undergrowth. 

He looked down at his map with a scowl. If the markers were accurate in the text, it should be right- oh. Oh. Kylo looked up, his jaw dropping. There it was, practically swallowed by vines, hidden from any aerial view by the trees surrounding it. Stairs that had mostly crumbled away leading up to a small temple, small skulls decorating the roof. As the archaeologist approached, he noticed something that was almost an impossibility in any ancient buildings; the jewels that had stood the test of time, gleaming in mostly the same spot they had originally been placed in. Shattered green onyx, almost black in its shade, still rested on top of the steps. Kylo began to climb up the small pyramid when he noticed something else. Set into the walls adjacent to the steps were inverted suns made out of rubies. It was a design that, in all of his time studying Aztec and Mayan culture, he had never seen or even read reference to. Perhaps whoever built this temple really were heathens. His curiosity, however, pulled him up the steps. Entering the temple didn’t do anything to curb Kylo’s excitement, the man letting out a laugh of surprise. 

Great walls of stone, etched with hundreds upon hundreds of carvings, held up the roof that had mostly managed to withstand the countless years of weather and debris building up. There were some holes, green light filtering through to accent just...how barren the temple was. It was large, larger than Kylo would have guessed by just looking at the outside, but besides what the archaeologist assumed to be an offering slab, it was empty. But who cared? It was incredibly intact, and moving towards the wall next to him revealed to Kylo just how unusual these people were compared to the Aztecs or the Mayans. The carvings were obviously depicting some sort of battle, but it was nothing like anything he had ever seen. Still with a wide grin on his face, Kylo reached into his bag, pulling out his notepad before beginning to stencil the carvings at eye level. The human was completely oblivious to the meaning behind the cold wind that went through the temple, too caught up in his own thoughts to think how unusual that should be in a South American jungle. Something was stirring, something that hadn’t stirred in a long time, something old and powerful beyond memory. And it was watching the newcomer with nothing short of displeasure. In places like these, rituals must be followed. Prayers must be spoken. Offerings must be placed upon the altar. He must be honoured. “And what is it you’re doing in my temple?”

Kylo jumped at the voice that cut through the silence, a sound that somehow echoed through the temple while sounding barely above a murmur. His head whipped around, his eyes widening at the man stepping out from the shadows further in the temple. The man was pale, unnaturally so, his skin almost looking bleached white. The archaeologist would have described his clothing as traditional if it weren’t for the colour. While usually outfits would be filled with vibrant designs, here the colour was almost entirely gone, replaced with a deep black. On the side panels of his skirt, there was silver thread, etching out geometric lines and squares that almost looked like constellations if Kylo squinted. He wasn’t wearing a tunic, but he was wearing a collar that was once again a deep black with silver accents. His cape was a solid black, but what caught the archaeologist’s attention was the band on the man’s upper arm; crafted from silver and inlaid with rubies was the same design he had seen outside of the temple. A reversed sun. 

Clothing aside, there was no way this man could be a local. He spoke perfect English and his skin was far too pale for anything but Northern European. Besides, he had a head full of ginger hair. For him to be here could only mean one thing. “This is your temple?” Kylo’s heart sank. This finding wasn’t his at all. Some extremely eccentric archaeologist beat him to it. He was going to have to return home, tail between his legs, with nothing to show for his months of work. “Sorry for getting in the way of your excavation. I thought this was empty. I’ll...leave you to it then.”

“Empty?!” The man's voice was nothing short of incredulous, the expression on his face dropping from surprise to anger. “Since this was built, I have been tied here. Never once have I completely left it empty,” he all but spat, fury glistening in his eyes. He crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes narrowing at the confused expression on Kylo’s face. “Who do you think I am, mortal?” 

Kylo’s eyebrows raised at that, and he couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped his lips. Well, that explained everything. “Look, I know summers are rough around here. I must’ve sweat a gallon just getting all the way out here. I don’t see your bag, you’ve had a drink recently?” The archaeologist slung his backpack off his shoulders, pulling out his water bottle and handing it over, a small smirk on his face. He’d seen this a hundred times before. Dehydration could drive someone off the rails if they weren’t careful. And for this guy to have a delusion big enough that he thought he was some ancient god? He must’ve not had a drink for a while. 

The ginger’s eyes snapped up to Kylo’s own, green eyes looking distrustfully at large brown ones, before looking down at the bottle extended towards him. “An offering,” he said slowly, the tiniest of smirks flickering across his face. He reached out, daintily taking the bottle between both hands in a way that made the archaeologist frown in confusion before taking a small sip. The cool wind went through the temple again, and a hint of colour appeared on the man’s pale cheeks. He handed the bottle back to Ren before inclining his head, looking satisfied. “State your wish or purpose. Have you come to ask for my blessing on your endeavours?”

The encouraging smile that had been on Kylo’s face as the man across from him took a drink fell as he realised the other was still talking like some Shakespearean actor. But…maybe there was a way he could take advantage of the situation. He certainly wasn’t going to let this man die, but there was a bigger picture here. This temple currently had excavation rights to this nearly-insane ginger. If before he got better, he signed the rights off to Kylo… perhaps there was still hope after all. “Your blessing? You mean a sponsor? You’re going to let me excavate here?”

And just like that, the atmosphere changed. The temperature dropped, to the point where Kylo got goosebumps, and he could practically feel the tension in the air, the faint whiff of ozone in the air of the temple as if lightning was about to strike. But the archaeologist wasn’t focusing on that. Instead, the entirety of his attention was directed to the ginger who had just surged forward, grabbing him by the neck and slamming him against the offering slab with strength that should have been impossible for how not-muscular he was. “I am your god,” he snarled, voice booming in the temple in a way that wasn’t natural. “I have tolerated your disrespect, but no longer! You will not desecrate my temple, mortal, is that understood?”

Kylo’s eyes were wide with panic as he attempted to claw at the pale hand around his throat, so small compared to his own but somehow unmoving. The grip loosened just enough for the archaeologist to take a deep breath and wheeze out “Yes! Yes, just get off me!” The fear pumping through his chest was brought on by more than just the grip. He had gotten into his fair share of fights. But this man’s surprising amount of strength couldn’t explain how his voice echoed, or what the hell had happened to the temperature in South America. For all he cared, this ginger could keep the temple. Kylo just wanted to live to see another day. 

The hand let go completely and Kylo crumpled against the offering slab, his own hands wrapping around his throat as he caught his breath, chest heaving. There was a slight look of disgust on the ginger’s face, his nose curling as he looked down at the archaeologist. “You're already on the floor. Say my name. Grovel and thank me for mercy.” When Ren didn’t reply immediately, staring up at the other with confusion written all over his face, the other took a step forward, fists clenched. “You must know who I am. You came to my temple. Say my name!”

“How the actual fuck am I supposed to know who you are?!” Kylo got to his feet, shaking his head, shoving his bottle back into his backpack with a scowl. “You know how many archaeologists there are in the world? I don’t have time for this. If you want to be a lunatic and die out here, fine. Be that way! I’ll just claim this rubble for myself when you’re dead!” He turned around, backpack slung over his shoulders, intent on walking out of the temple. However, a deep rumbling caused him to stop, looking down at the floor with big eyes. Earthquake. “Hey, come on, we gotta get out of here! This whole thing could collapse!”

The ginger didn’t move, a smile on his face dark enough that it gave Kylo pause. “You’re welcome to try and leave, mortal.” “What-“ The archaeologist turned around, his jaw dropping. The doorway was just...gone. He knew it had to have been there, he had just been looking at it, he had just been ready to leave. Ren walked up to the wall that had appeared where the doorway should have been and brought a hand up. It wasn’t just a hallucination; it was firm, and that unnatural coolness clung to the stone. He pressed his forehead against it, attempting to calm his flying thoughts. He had to be dreaming. Yes. That was the only explanation. None of this was real. 

Rumbling, this time hard enough to make Kylo lose his footing, caused him to turn around. Where there had once been an empty expanse of floor in the temple, now a great throne stood, constructed of the same almost-black onyx that had coated the stairs leading up to the temple. This time, instead of being filthy and cracked, this was gleaming, evident even as it sat in the shadows. The ginger climbed the new steps to the throne, sitting down on it leisurely. He crossed his legs, resting his chin on the palm of his hands, but Kylo wasn’t fooled. The relaxed position didn’t hide the sharpness in his eyes, eyes that never once wavered from watching him. “I am Hux.” The calm voice echoed around the room, and a shiver ran down the archaeologist’s spine. 

“Look, I’m sorry, alright? I didn’t know. How was I supposed to know? Everyone has forgotten about you!” A raised eyebrow. “Look, I don’t know what the fuck is going on here. I don’t know what I must’ve drank or if this is all just a dream but I’m not trying to get killed!” The silence was making Kylo uneasy. He didn’t like the way Hux was looking at him, as if he was some sort of spec under a microscope. “You wanted an offering, right? You liked the water? Here, take it.” Ren placed the bottle on the steps of the throne, but when he still wasn’t given a response, he started frantically digging through his backpack. “The only thing worth anything is my camera. Do you want it? Here, take it, it’s yours. Just let me go, please.” 

Finally, Kylo got a response. The ginger let out a small sigh, rubbing his brows. “You are attempting to appease me with...water.” Green eyes flickered between the two offerings below him and the archaeologist, fear clearly on his features. This time, Ren didn’t attempt to break the silence stretching out, Hux clearly mulling something over in his head, though he did nervously fidget the straps of his backpack. He knew it must be a dream, but that didn’t make it feel any less real. “I had assumed that the next mortal who would dare enter my temple would be a follower. I see I was mistaken.” He waved a ringed hand, and Kylo turned around, watching as the stone wall that had covered the doorway drop away with a deep rumbling. “Go. Take your bottle.”

Kylo didn’t need to be told twice. He darted forward, quickly grabbing the water and returning it to his backpack. As he reached for the camera, however, he glanced up, seeing Hux’s eyes still looking down on him. Not angry anymore, just...curious. Perhaps Ren would go even as far as to classify the expression as disappointed. It was hard to say; the ginger’s face seemed to be little more than a mask, each expression perfectly calculated. The archaeologist glanced back to the camera, lips pressed together before he pulled away his hand. “An offering.” It was just a dream, it didn’t matter anyways. 

Kylo stood, slinging the backpack onto his shoulders. He waited a moment to see if Hux would say anything further, but besides the green eyes following him, the man was as still as the stone which surrounded them. “Well...bye.” With that, Ren turned around, his hands wrapped tightly around the straps of his backpack. He didn’t glance around, not until the temple was far out of sight, but he could still feel Hux’s gaze boring into the back of his skull.


	2. Wouldn't Spare the Rod

The trek back to the jungle to the village was long, but it passed quickly. Kylo had a lot on his mind, and if he even vocalised half of the contents, he would be sent to an asylum. Did he really just meet….a god? It was hard, no, impossible, to believe that. Was there another explanation? Perhaps dehydration. Heatstroke. Yes, that had to be it, it had to all be an illusion. But it felt unsettlingly real. 

These thoughts plagued the archaeologist the entire trek back to the village that had become his base of operations for the foreseeable future. It certainly wasn’t the grandest place he had been in; just enough underbrush cut out for some huts to settle between the towering trees. The dirt path that snaked between the houses was far from welcoming, but it was slightly more comforting than the numerous eyes that snapped towards him when he crossed the treeline. Almost on cue, the village children came running towards him, laughing in delight.

He wished he knew what could possibly be so funny. Sure, he had a good grasp of Spanish, but in this village, Nahuatl was all that was spoken by most of the people. It would have been nice for Snoke to let him know that before he arrived, but it was unlikely that Kylo’s employer knew or cared about the language barrier. It’s not as if the collector would have given him a translator. The fewer the people involved in these sorts of missions, the better. A translator was usually considered an unnecessary expense. 

Even now, as Kylo attempted to shoo the children away, they followed him, speaking rapidly and not seeming to care that he didn’t understand a word. He really wasn’t a great kid-sitter, but the watchful eyes of the adults on him forced him to keep his temper in check. Sure, they were being paid to house and feed him, but he wasn’t sure how much they actually cared about the money. If the village decided to drive him out, it’s not like a single archaeologist would be able to do much about it. 

“Go on, get out of here,” he muttered as the children attempted to follow him into the hut that he shared with a man named Ollin. Ollin never seemed to be around much; Kylo wasn’t exactly sure what Ollin did with his free time, and frankly, he didn’t care enough to ask. Being left alone to think about whatever just happened was just what he needed. 

The man sat down on his sleeping mat, leaning back against the wall and letting out a long sigh. Pulling the water bottle from his backpack, Kylo quickly drained the rest of it before running a hand through his hair. He needed to think clearly. Obviously, there was some sort of hallucination. Dehydration. Maybe a hallucinogenic plant he ran into. Was that a thing in South America? Probably. Fucking anything could be happening in these jungles. Tomorrow, when he went out again, he would have to be more prepared. Maybe some sort of face covering. Probably pants. He would have to ask…

Kylo’s thoughts trailed off as he looked out the ajar door of the hut, meeting the gaze of the woman who was staring at him intently. An awkward smile and a wave didn’t dissuade her state, and the man looked away, uncomfortable. If he couldn’t snap at the children, he certainly couldn’t even make eye contact with this woman. She was, from what he could gather, the village elder. Her name was Centehua.

The archaeologist looked up again when he saw movement outside of the hut; Centehua had called Ollin over from wherever he had been and was talking rapidly to him, pointing at Kylo with a sense of urgency. The man swallowed, his fingers clenching and unclenching around the strap of his backpack. What was he supposed to do? Play it cool. Maybe it was something stupid. Could be just gossiping about how shitty he looked. 

No, of course it was impossible for him to be that lucky. Ollin nodded his head sternly before walking over to Kylo, looking down at him with no small amount of suspicion. “Centehua must speak with you about what you saw in the jungle,” he said in Spanish, crossing his arms. 

“What I saw?” Kylo echoed dumbly, even as he got to his feet, his backpack getting slung over his shoulder. 

“Follow me.” 

Ollin lead the way across the street, holding open the door to Centehua’s hut. Kylo swallowed, but what choice did he have? Already, the curiosity, the whispers of ‘how could she know?’ were echoing in his head. Was this some sort of elaborate trick set up by the village?

The inside of the hut was cluttered, a seemingly endless pile of odds and ends filling up the shelves that were mounted along the wall. However, Kylo didn’t exactly have much time to try and see what even a quarter of those things were; Ollin had closed the door behind him, and was now gesturing for him to sit down on one of the mats on the floor. The archaeologist didn’t argue, sitting down, looking up at the village elder who was watching him from her chair.

Ollin sat down next to Kylo, and there was a moment of silence in the hut before Centehua spoke softly, Ollin turning and translating the Nahuatl into Spanish. “Tell me what you saw.”

Kylo’s eyes flickered between the pair, eventually deciding to settle on the old woman in front of him. “I was looking for this....building. I found it. There was a man in it. Tall, with red hair. Black clothes. He spoke English. He said his name Hux.”

Centehau nodded at this, her fingers tapping against the arm of her chair. “Do you own a mirror?” 

“What? No. Not here.”

“You have been blessed. Can you not feel it on your face? His symbol?”

Kylo frowned, looking between Centehau and Ollin before fingertips reached up, gently touching his face. There was raised skin now, where there had been just something smooth. His breathing became faster as he felt along the mark. It stretched all the way from his neck to above his right eye. “What the FUCK?! What did you do to me?!” 

The archaeologist scrambled to his feet, his eyes wild. “I need to get out of here, you people are crazy, fucking crazy!” Centehua seemed unphased by his outburst, waving her hand to Ollin and speaking rapidly. The man nodded, grabbing a basin of water from the corner of the room and handing it to Kylo. He practically snatched it from Ollin’s hands, putting it down on the floor of the hut and kneeling down, staring in horror at his face. Sure, Kylo would never have described himself as handsome. Most people would agree that his lips, nose, and ears were all a little disproportionate to the rest of his face. But it wasn’t as if he had hated how he looked. It had been his face; he hadn’t known anything different. Now, however, an ugly red line marred his features. “Why...Why didn’t I feel it? What is it?” Kylo whispered, touching the warm skin.

“Sit. I have a story to tell you. Listen. Take notes. Your questions will be answered.”

Kylo forced himself to look up from the bucket of water, attempting to calm the hammering in his chest. Something was happening here, something that didn’t seem to phase either Centehua or Ollin. The archaeologist shuffled back to his mat, opening his backpack and pulling out a worn notebook and a pen. Centehua waited until he was settled before beginning her story.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Many centuries ago, there was a god named Itztlacoliuhqui, once named Tlahuizcalpantecuhtli, once named Quetzacoatl. The change from Quetzacoatl to Tlahuizcalpantecuhtli was by his own doing. His drunken errors which lead him to sleep with his own sister weighed heavily on his soul, and he sacrificed himself, becoming Tlahuizcalpantecuhtli, the Morning Star.

However, the chance from Tlahuizcalpantecuhtli to Itztlacoliuhqui was not so peaceful. Tonatiuh, the God of the Sun, high creator god alongside Ometeotl, turned on Tlahuizcalpantecuhtli. The Morning Star watched Tonatiuh lounge in the sky, refusing to move, and angrily shot a dart at him. The dart missed, but when Tonatiuh responded in kind, the darts made their mark. Tlahuizcalpantecuhtli fell, becoming Itztlacoliuhqui, God of Coldness and Obsidian.

These are all stories known and told by the Aztecs. However, the First Order knows what comes after.

Itztlacoliuhqui never forgave and never forgot what Tonatiuh did to him. How could he? He had been murdered, forced to become nothing more than a cleaner with a broom. He only had one consolation; he was not alone. Quetzacoatl had a brother named Tezcatlipoca, God of the Night. While Itztlacoliuhqui had changed much since his time as Quetzacoatl, the two gods still managed to rekindle something of what they had. Besides, what went better than cold and dark?

The once-brothers had had their spats. Unlike mortal brothers, their arguments and fights had destroyed worlds. But they had also created worlds together. They were forces to be reckoned with; forces of change. And they had decided the time for change had come. The Fifth Sun must set on Tonatiuh, and anyone, creature or divine, who stood beside him.

Tezcatlipoca, among other things, was also the God of Deceit and Treachery. Assassinating the King of the Gods fell right under his influence. They were going to have to be subtle. Play the long game, as it were. 

Slowly, the nights began to last just a hair longer each day. The cold sweeping over the lands just a little bit faster. A little too soon for the time of year. But Tonatiuh didn’t notice, not at first. The sacrifices from the mortals continued to appease him, and the sun was still strong enough that he could bask in its warmth day after day.

It took 52 years before the fateful moment. The sun set, after being up for only a few moments in the sky. And it never rose again. Tonatiuh had ignored the whispers of concern from the other gods, had brushed aside their urges to bring Tazcatliopca and Itztlacoliuhqui under heel. He was too arrogant to ever think that any god would ever turn against him.

He ran from Teotihuacan into Mictlan, intent on punishing Mictlanteuctli, the God of the Dead. Each night, as the stars and the sun set on the upper world, they passed through the Land of the Dead into Mictlanteuctli, where he swallowed them and let them go when it was their time to rise again. In the darkness that covered the world, Tonatiuh saw that not even the stars shone. It had to be Mictlanteuctli who caused this, who got greedy and consumed all of the light and was never going to let it go.

That was partly true. Many many centuries ago, Quetzacoatl and Tezcatlipoca had placed Mictlanteuctli on the throne of Mictlan, giving him supreme power of all souls, mortal or otherwise, that resided in his realm. A debt like that had to be repaid eventually, and the once-brothers had decided to call in their favour. 

Tonatiuh fought his way down to Mictlanteuctli and was met with a horrific sight. The God of the Dead, having gorged himself on all of the stars and the sun, had died. His corpse, bloated almost beyond recognition, laid on the floor. A sound caused Tonatiuh to look up. Tezcatlipoca and Itztlacoliuhqui emerged from the shadows, smiling darkly before they both stabbed into Mictlanteuctli’s stomach, destroying the sun. There was a great explosion, and the Realm of the Fifth Sun was no more.

Everything that once was had perished. Gone, incinerated by the blast of a dying sun. However, the one-brothers and Tonatiuh were standing so close to the blast site, their impressions were still felt in the universe. The outline of their bodies, their souls, their spirits, remained. From this, new life was formed.

The impression of Tonatiuh created another god that was born to walk among the light. A general, a bringer of hope, of fierceness, of resourcefulness. Brave, as Tonatiuh was in his last moments, but also arrogant. A warrior, and the bringer of light in the Sixth Sun. He named himself Poe. A name unlike any a god had taken before him.

But there cannot be light without darkness. The impression of Tezcatlipoca created another warrior, born to walk in the darkness, draped with the stars that exploded and gave birth to him. Another general, but this one one of cunning, of trickery, of ruthlessness. While he hid from the sun, leaving his skin a ghostly white, he still carried a mark from the eruption of the sun; hair, burning brighter than any red fire.

The two generals were all that were left in the world, and as such, they became adversaries, each creating a following. However, they were weak and couldn’t show the mortals that survived their strength. And as such, the mortals turned to the ruins of the gods of the Fifth Sun, continuing to worship deities that were nothing more than bones and ash.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to say that while I do not personally worship the Aztec deities as part of my practice, I do believe in them. Because of this, I attempted to give them as much respect as I could while simultaneously using them as part of a story. While I tried to use the personalities of the gods throughout, the vast majority of the text after "these are all stories known and told by the Aztecs" is purely of my creation. Besides some facts about Mictlanteuctli, most of this is /not/ accurate due to me attempting to incorporate Star Wars characters into a religion.


End file.
